Dehumanization
by Timelessdemon
Summary: A story following Simon's suicide, rising and how his time in the treatment centre affected his decision to become a disciple of the undead prophet. Warning, chapter 1 contains detailed suicide references.


Some would call him depressed, but he didn't want to think of himself like that, he was just knowledgeable, he knew what the world had to offer and it held nothing for him, he'd tried everything, he'd gone to counsellors, he'd come out to his parents, he'd travelled, gone to school and college, he'd even gone to America like the movie stars in an attempt to shrug the internal unhappiness off, but even that hadn't worked.

It was impossible, since as long as he could remember he'd been miserable, the world and everyone inside it held no true meaning; You live, you piss about, you die, you live, you piss about, you die... What did it all mean in the end? What did any of it mean really?

He just didn't want to do it anymore, he'd regret nothing except his parents, he'd left them a note but knew it would never be enough, no excuse ever would be to them, they just couldn't understand, they'd send him to a psychiatrist, get him stuck on happy pills and he didn't want to be forced to feel something that was un-natural to him. He just wanted out, it was as simple as that.

Finishing his note, Simon put it onto his bed side table and looked back towards the mixture of hazardous substances laid out on his bed infront of him, some substances were household cleaners such as bleach, others were various illegal drugs. Over the years he'd taken many different drugs to 'get high' but even they didn't seem enough now.

Taking out a single unused needle, Simon used to it to suck up cocaine, bleach and LSD, all in the same vial. Simon swirled the mixture within the needle, watching the strange coloured substance flow back and forth before rolling up his sleeve and injecting it into himself. He smiled at the strange feeling before quickly withdrawing the now empty needle and using it to suck up another pair of illegal drugs and one household cleaner before injecting them in more or less the same place, he repeated the process one more time before feeling too fuzzy to continue anymore.

Putting down the empty needle, Simon lay back on his bed, everything moved slow and yet fast at the same time, he watched calmly as colours seemed to eminate from around his room before starting move rapidly past his eyes; red, yellow, green, blue, purple, orange, greenredorange yellowblueredyhellowpurpleredblupurpyelloreoragreblu- He groaned as the colours began to mix into each other, too fast, it was going too fast, the colours were making him sick- And he was sick, violently, but he had no hope of flushing the substances out that way, he'd injected them, the drugs had already entered his bloodstream and were rapidly committing their damage, destroying his organs and poisoning his blood and brain.

'Five minutes or less and it will be over, five minutes or less and he wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore' he repeatedly told himself as his body began to convulse violently and uncontrollably, eventually causing him to fall off the bed, hitting the floor hard and continuing to convulse violently while frothing at the mouth.

It was then he realised his mistake, he should have waited longer, he was scared and he definitely wasn't ready. Still convulsing, Simon painfully mouthed a silent plea to the God he'd renounced just days ago- He was wrong, he wasn't ready and he didn't want to , He Didn't Want To, HE DIDN'T WANT TO... die.

* * *

The burial was like any other, people cried, talked about the dead and cried some more, all in all a fairly average affair, many said they wished they could have helped and that Simon was in a better place now. His parents said that Simon would have loved the funeral and that it had all the music he would have loved... None of that mattered though, not really, a funeral's for those left behind, to help the grieving process and make them feel better. A funeral is not for the dead, the dead can't hear the pleas and prayers, the dead can't think about or do anything because they're just that- They're dead.

* * *

**So what do you wonderful readers think? I'm planning to add the second and slightly longer part to this soon, if you think it's a good idea then you know what to do- REVIEW! ...Please?**


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